


214. little beasts

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [59]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep the werewolves in a glass cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	214. little beasts

**Author's Note:**

> [warning: blood, animal death]

They keep the werewolves in two glass boxes – technically cells, but almost featureless. Glass wall in front, bed in the back, something that could in theory be called a toilet. Big glass box split in two by the wall in the middle. The one on the right is pacing again. The one on the left is thoughtfully watching the rabbit they’ve let into her cell run in frantic circles. She hasn’t moved. The full moon is coming, five hours now, and she hasn’t moved.

“This is _illegal!_ ” yells the one on the right, the brunette one. “You pieces of shit, you can’t just – _abduct_ people, the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

She’s been yelling like this for almost an hour now; mainly, everyone thinks it is to give her something to do. She isn’t even looking at them – her eyes dart over the walls, looking for seams, looking for holes to slither through. Occasionally, she looks at the camera up in the corner of her cell.

The one on the left is still watching the rabbit. She’s holding out a hand, cooing to it. _Tk tk tk tk tk_. She snaps her fingers, keeps on not saying anything. The rabbit, sensibly, stays on the other end of the cage. It eyes are very wide, and very black.

The one on the right is still pacing until she isn’t, until she’s sitting on the floor with her back to the wall dividing their cells. She pounds on it once with her first and the one on the left hops off her bed, sits on the other side of the wall. They press their faces to the wall and whisper, wordless susurrus that the microphones aren’t picking up. One scientist takes notes: _enhanced hearing? Enhanced senses?_ under a heading labeled _Lycanthropism_.

Four hours until the full moon.

* * *

It’s difficult to find werewolves who are trying to keep their heads down, unless you keep your ear even lower to the ground. You have to listen hard, for rumors of rumors – new wolfpack in the woods near town, yeah, sometimes I hear ‘em howling, deer going missing. You heard Morrison finally got renters, yeah, heard that, two girls right? Yeah, twins. Hope the wolves don’t eat them up.

From there it’s easy, though. They have people – “people” – for that sort of thing. People to hunt animals and bring them in.

Prints gave them Sarah Manning, arrested for petty theft and various other misdemeanors. British. Only child.

The other set of prints: nothing. Not a thing. They don’t know her name, or where she comes from – England, surely? – or where those scars all over her back came from. They’re old. Years and years and years.

So here is the cage, and here is the animal. One on the right who talks like she’s human.

One on the left who doesn’t talk at all.

* * *

Forty-five minutes until the full moon. Three more rabbits in the cage on the left. The one on the right – Sarah Manning, juvenile delinquent – is pacing, pacing, hitting the wall with her fist, pacing. Blood on the walls. The rabbits hop and hop every time her fist goes _thud_.

The one on the left has started staring at the scientists outside the cell. She just stares, and stares, and stares.

Minutes tick by, thud

 

thud

 

thud.

 

The one on the left makes a _sound_ , suddenly, a high whine. All the rabbits go still. All the scientists go still. It sounds like a knife scraping another knife, that sound. It sounds like every bump-in-the-night you’ve ever been afraid of.

“Hey,” Sarah says, and the woman who is not Sarah makes a horrible high growl, clenches fingers into the sheets on the bed.

“ _Hey_ ,” says Sarah again. “Listen to me, you hear my voice? You hear me? I’m right here, and neither of us are going anywhere. You’re _not leaving_ , dogbreath, you got that? No way in _hell_ am I letting you leave.”

The other woman opens her mouth. There are so many teeth in her mouth. She closes her mouth, and: _whines_ , long and thin.

Sarah growls back. There’s frantic scribbling from outside the cells, notes on vocalizations and pack dynamics, and Sarah slams her shoulder against the glass wall.

(It wobbles.)

(Fifteen minutes until the full moon.)

“You _twats_ ,” she growls. “What the hell is wrong with you? You just gonna sit there and take _notes_ on this shit? This get you off?”

The occupant of the cage on the left stands up, sudden, danger in every single line of her body. The rabbits are stampeding towards the glass, their fragile bodies battering against the window. They leave blood smears. So much blood, from these two animals in their cages.

Suddenly: a shudder. It goes down her spine and through her limbs and one scientist prods another, whispers _are her fingers a little longer_ whispers _are those claws_ whispers _hair growth_ and the one on the left opens her mouth and says: “Sarah.”

“No, no, no,” Sarah says. “ _No_ , don’t do this to me, I _need_ you.”

“ _Sarah_ ,” says the one on the left again. It doesn’t sound so much like a word this time, and she’s panting and shuddering and shaking and the full moon is here, surely, or it’s almost here, or it’s rising now in the moon-yellow irises of her eyes.

Oh. Oh, the full moon is here.

The rabbits scream when they die. The scientists outside the cage take notes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
